arthur.

duders,
i am doing this:

and this:

and i'm partway through this:

small art for small minds, or at least for small places and empty spaces.
i make little pictures on little sleep, i guess.
any idea if this is some kind of new hottness?
i don't know,
because i'm overtired and woozy from the marker-stink activation.
but,
it's all right here,
in various stages of completion,
waiting for you ninjas to scoople it up.
taking the worst and making it different,
but probably still terrible.
that's my move.
y'know?
worsening.
wrenched up, and entrenched in the small hours of arthur-making alone time.
with the mandatory handicap of busted broken-tipped markers
and old, porous paper, and a rasher of the cheapest sexy frames
that a poor-person-type ballout splurge can buy.
i take the doo-doo butter and i whip it into gold, neighbors.
grumplestiltskin is my name.
and that's what's really happening,
and that's all you get for today;
never quiet, never soft.....